


Challenger

by Zaghan



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/M, First Meetings, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Slice of Life, Ushijima Wakatoshi - Freeform, they share one (1) collective brain cell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:27:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25887322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zaghan/pseuds/Zaghan
Summary: It feels almost wrong to call his eyes pretty, but she can’t help noticing them as she challenges his stare back. They’re a light green, matching the olive tones of his hair. His body is all bulk: wide shoulders, large torso, and logs for legs. A stiff posture, rigid in nature. Everything about him hums with power, as if there is a beast hidden behind his sharp stare.Kanon knows an opponent when she sees one.‘I want to fight him on the court,’ she thinks.
Relationships: Ushijima Wakatoshi & Original Character(s), Ushijima Wakatoshi & Original Female Character(s), Ushijima Wakatoshi/Original Character(s), Ushijima Wakatoshi/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 17





	Challenger

**Author's Note:**

> POV: you’re the reader watching me crawl out of the woodwork to post this for Ushijima’s birthday.
> 
> This is cc x oc, so if you’re not a fan of that, feel free to either skip this piece or read it as x reader instead. Idk man, whatever pleases you.
> 
> Happy birthday, Japan.

Kanon stares down at her hand, lightly flexing her fingers back and forth. Her pointer finger flexes oddly, and she slightly flinches at the awkward feeling. The finger in question aches at the motion.

A hand swipes at the back of her head.

“Go to the nurse already, stupid. You dun’ fucked up your finger.” Suzu stands behind her, one hand propped against her hip and the other still raised from her attack. Kanon lunges, elbows and knees knocking against each other as she shoves her back.

“I know, I know! Don’t miss me too much while I’m gone!” She rubs her hand against the stubble of Suzu’s buzzcut—for good luck, of course—then stumbles out the gym doors with a laugh before her friend can kick her to the nurse herself.

She sprints through the empty hallways, sneakers squeaking as she drifts around corners, nearly sliding into the walls. Going to the nurse isn’t new by any means: floor burn, bloody noses, concussions—you name it, she’s probably had it. She’d like to think that after many visits, her and Kuroko-sensei—the nurse who tended to her injuries, and who had also been getting progressively more and more agitated with her constant appearances—had formed a close bond.

With as much grace as a bear—which is to say, none at all—Kanon slides the door open, letting it bang against the doorway.

“Kuroko-sensei, I’m back!”

Kuroko Hana glances up at her, eyebrows furrowed and lips pulled into a scowl. It’s nothing new. What is new, however, is the building of a man sitting next to her, fingers half wrapped in white bandages. His hand looks nearly colossal compared to the dainty size of the nurse’s. Although he is clearly staring, his face remains undisturbed by Kanon’s grand entrance. 

It feels almost wrong to call his eyes pretty, but she can’t help noticing them as she challenges his stare back. They’re a light green, matching the olive tones of his hair. His body is all bulk: wide shoulders, large torso, and logs for legs. A stiff posture, rigid in nature. Everything about him hums with power, as if there is a beast hidden behind his sharp stare. 

Kanon knows an opponent when she sees one. 

‘I want to fight him on the court,’ she thinks.

A roll of athletic tape hits her straight in the forehead, and she barely manages to catch it before it tumbles on to the floor.

“Stop staring like that, it’s rude. Get in here already, brat,” Kuroko-sensei says, hand already held out for the roll. Kanon complies, and the nurse eyes her fingers as she places it in her palm.

“I’m going to get more bandages. Don’t make a mess,” she warns, eyeing Kanon. She salutes her with her hurt hand.

Kanon isn’t a silent person. Everything from her voice to her footsteps is loud. She knows this, and it isn’t something she plans on changing anytime soon. Thus, when it’s just her and the mystery boy in the room, she doesn’t stop herself from saying something once it’s abundantly clear he doesn’t plan on acknowledging the silence anytime soon.

“You jam your finger there too, big guy? Same here!” She holds up her own hand. Her pointer finger has slightly swelled up, and she can see the way bruising is already starting to bloom along it. It isn’t pretty. It also isn’t something she should be showing someone as a first impression, but she’s never been one to hold back.

He stares at her raised hand, narrowing in on the damaged fingers. He glances down briefly at his own injury before giving a single nod.

“It seems so.” Kanon isn’t surprised by the deepness of his voice. Based on just his appearance, anything else wouldn’t do him enough justice.

“You on a sports team? Ah- wait wait, lemme guess? Uh... basketball? You’re pretty tall after all. Wait, no. Baseball? You got the hands of a catcher. Or, wait—swim team? Backstrokes and shit, dude,” she prattles, not allowing the man to even get a word in. With each incorrect sport, his jaw twitches. But he still just continues to stare as she keeps naming sports, somehow managing to get further away with each guess. 

There’s energy in her movements. She talks with her hands, allowing them to move back and forth as speaks. The expressiveness on her face is borderline overwhelming, and he can feel his own face ache with the effort it must take to be that animated. But there’s something so open about it that he can’t help but keep staring. He thinks this is the closest he’s come to ever fully knowing what was going on in someone’s head, and the sincerity behind it all is almost charming.

“Ah, wait I got it! You do-!” The door slams open once more, and Kuroko-sensei is there, already giving Kanon a full blown glare.

“I could hear you from down the hall. Lower your voice.” Kanon’s lips pucker, almost to the point of being an embarrassed pout.

“Yes yes, sorry sensei,” she murmurs. The nurse mumbles something under her breath before moving back to complete the wrap around the man’s fingers. 

“Do you play a sport as well?” Both women momentarily pause at his sentence, not having expected him to say anything. But Kanon smiles wide once the shock dissipates, and there’s something dangerous along the edges of her smile.

“Volleyball, of course!” 

Kuroko-sensei tapers off the bandage, smoothing the end down before shooing the man away. He stands, and with the same stiffness as before, gives a shallow bow and heads towards the door. But he stops just before it, right in front of Kanon’s chair. She feels as if she’s peering up into the leaves of a great oak as she stares up at him. Kanon knows she is muscular compared to other girls, but standing in front of this titan almost makes her feel as if all the muscle meant nothing.

“I hope to see you on the court soon. Train well,” he says. There’s something in the undertone of it that makes her hair stand on end. Arrogance? Vanity? 

No, she knows what this is. This is a challenge. Her chin tilts up, and she feels her jaw tighten.

“Wasn’t planning on anything else, tough guy,” she says.

He merely hums once more, but there’s a tilt to the corner of his lips. He’s gone moments later.

“Sanada, get over here. I don’t have all day.”

“Ah, sorry sensei! Please don’t hit me again, hehe...”


End file.
